


Delayed Gratification

by greenapricot



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Episode 3x05 A Show of Unity, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenapricot/pseuds/greenapricot
Summary: Emily steps back, breaking the kiss, and Henry leans toward her making a low hum of protest. She takes his hand and leads him to her dressing room; their dressing room now that he has returned, as is their tradition. When they are together here in the castle away from parliamentary time pressure, they dress and undress each other.





	Delayed Gratification

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jameshathaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jameshathaway/gifts).



> A missing scene from 3x05 between Lord Pam greeting Emily on the grounds and dinner with the Queen.
> 
> For Leena, who joined me in my sudden and all-consuming love for the Palmerstons and provided many an inspirational gifset.
> 
> In the process of writing this I learned far more than I had intended to about Victorian dress including: there were many layers of undergarments, women often put their on boots first and took them off last, and men’s shirts generally didn’t have buttons all the way down the front.
> 
> Many thanks to Ange for the quick read-through and assurances that it all works.

“Your Ladyship, you have not yet dressed for dinner.”

Emily turns from her contemplation of the grounds through the window—more attention ought to be paid to the trees lining the east side of the drive, they are beginning to look unkempt—and meets Henry’s gaze. Away from prying eyes, he looks tired and a bit strained, more so than the journey from London alone could account for. 

“Indeed, I have not,” she says. “Perhaps you could offer me some assistance.”

“It would be my great pleasure.” Henry steps forward, resting his hands on her hips, and leans in for a kiss which quickly becomes far more heated than the kiss they shared in front of the Queen. Emily should not have enjoyed that kiss as much as she did, nor the look on the Queen’s face. Yet she cannot bring herself to regret the heady thrill she felt as Henry leaned over the fence toward her while the Queen looked on. Henry’s desire for her is, as ever, considerable and infectious. After months apart the temptation to allow him to begin undressing her here in the corridor, as he so clearly wants to, is almost irresistible. 

Henry slides his hands from her hips to the small of her back, pulling her to him, bending to kiss her neck, and Emily catches movement at the end of the corridor over his shoulder. One of the Queen’s ladies—the Duchess of Monmouth perhaps—she stops abruptly at the sight of them then makes a hasty retreat. Likely Henry knew she would be coming up behind him. He is putting on a show; his wife, his castle, he will do as he pleases. And it is no end of pleasing to be wrapped in his arms, one of his hands steadying her against him, the other cupping the nape of her neck as he demonstrates with lips and tongue and his thumb tracing her jaw, how much he has missed her. But there is no need to put the entirety of the Queen’s entourage off in the first hour after their arrival. 

Emily steps back, breaking the kiss, and Henry leans toward her making a low hum of protest. She takes his hand and leads him to her dressing room; their dressing room now that he has returned, as is their tradition. When they are together here in the castle away from parliamentary time pressure, they dress and undress each other. 

“I have great fondness for these beekeeping garments,” Henry says, loosening the ties of her quilted jacket as soon as she has shut the dressing room door behind them. 

“You are fond of how simple they are to remove.” Emily smiles up at him and begins to unknot his tie. 

“I am.” He tilts his head, assessing, then pushes the jacket off her shoulders. She pulls his tie from around his neck and allows it to fall to the floor with her jacket. “Though, there is something to be said for the delayed gratification of some of your more elaborate gowns.” He smiles. “But each in its own time.” 

Henry leans in, trailing his long fingers down her neck and taking a deep inhale. “You smell very much like my wife who has been working all day in her apiary.” He tilts his head so his nose brushes her skin and inhales again. “Smoke, the countryside, sweat.” 

He groans, pushing aside the collar of her blouse, kissing up her neck and along her jaw before cupping her face in both hands and capturing her mouth again briefly; a delicious tease. Emily pulls him toward her by the collar of his frock coat, deepening the kiss, and Henry folds himself around her, making a pleased hum in the back of his throat. 

“Emily,” he breathes, kissing along her jaw again. “I have missed you.” 

“I never would have guessed.” She tilts her head to give him better access and lets herself get lost in the warmth of him, the welcome touch of his lips on her skin, his fingers deftly untying her skirt, then her petticoats as she pushes his frock coat off his shoulders and begins to undo the buttons of his waistcoat.

The ties of her skirt and petticoats loosened, Henry slides them over her hips to the floor, holding her hand as if she is alighting from a carriage while she steps out of them. He kisses the back of her hand, looking up at her from under his eyelashes, then pulls her to him again, helping her off with her blouse. Emily steps forward pushing his waistcoat aside and off, followed by his braces. She takes her time with his shirt buttons, unfastening one, then pushing the collar as open wide as it will allow and ghosting her fingers over the newly exposed skin, then again with the next button, and again, kissing his chest and pinching his nipple through the fabric. 

Henry gasps and begins loosening the ties of her corset. He unhooks the front and lets the corset drop to the floor, his long fingers tracing the curve of her waist and down to her hips before stepping forward and capturing her mouth again, his hands sliding up her back and over her upper arms and shoulders to cup her face. 

She has missed this; the two of them together half undressed, the warmth of Henry’s skin through thin fabric, the anticipation of what is to come, the way he looks at her, his long-fingered hands constantly moving over her body as if he cannot get enough of her. And he cannot, he obviously cannot, nor can she of him. 

If Emily were to pick one thing that she loves about Henry above all else it might be this, his singleness of focus and the way her heart nearly skips a beat when that focus is directed at her. Their first time together after an extended time apart never ceases to thrill her. It is not that she forgets how this feels, she has a good memory, especially for details, but to be on the receiving end of Henry’s singleness of focus, to feel just how much he desires her. It is good to be reminded. It is delightful to be reminded. Captivating. Enchanting. Thrilling. Comforting. Emily would gladly be reminded all evening if not for the fact that the Queen is surely waiting for them. Despite the Queen’s mild reaction to their first meeting, Emily imagines they have already given her and the Prince quite enough of a show.

“How long do you suppose is too long to keep the Queen waiting for dinner?” Henry murmurs, their thoughts, as is so often the case, running in concert with each other. He unties Emily’s bloomers and slides his hands down over her bottom, giving it a squeeze. His hands are deliciously warm on her bare skin. 

Emily hums, pressing her lips to his ear. “Not long enough for what I have in mind.” She kisses down his neck to his chest while unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down. She smiles at the obvious physical evidence of his desire for her, and he moans and pushes her up against the wardrobe as she pulls up his shirt and pushes down his drawers to get her hands on him. 

He pulls her chemise over her head and bends down to nip at her clavicle, fingers ghosting across her shoulders and over her sides in a feather-light touch that sends shivers down her spine. Henry bends down, cupping her breasts in his warm hands and sucking a nipple into his mouth, then kneels before her, tracing the curve of her breasts and trailing his fingers down over her stomach, pressing kisses to her navel. Emily grips the fabric of his shirt and pulls it up over his back, and he stops for a moment, sitting back on his heels and raising his arms so she can pull the shirt off over his head. 

Henry is gorgeous kneeling before her like this, naked and so clearly desirous of her, his hair mussed from her fingers and the removal of clothing, lips parted and slick from their kissing, gazing up at her as he smooths his fingers over her hips and across to her inner thighs. He holds her gaze, then presses his lips to her stomach, just below her navel. And again, and lower.

“Henry,” she gasps. 

“Yes, Emily,” he says against her skin. His breath tickles as it ghosts over her pubic hair. 

“Do you not have duties to the Queen?” she asks breathlessly as his fingers continue their journey down her legs, over her knees to her calves pushing her stockings down along the way. 

“No other duty is more important than my duty to you, my darling,” he says, bending down to unhook her boots. With his head bowed in concentration his mouth is so close to where she wants it. But they have already spent more time here than they ought to. The Queen may well already be waiting for them. It may not matter to Henry at this moment—it almost does not matter to her—but it will matter later if their tardiness serves to remove him from the Queen’s good graces. 

“We have waited months, we ought to be able to wait a few more hours,” Emily says, stepping out of her boots.

“Ought to, yes,” Henry murmurs. “Want to, not at all.” He relents though, standing and taking a reluctant step away from her, his gaze all heat. 

Emily sighs and turns toward the wardrobe to keep herself from reaching for him again. She selects Henry’s mauve waistcoat and holds it out to him. “This with the silver tie for dinner, I think.”

“Whichever pleases you most,” he says, sketching a naked bow. 

“You know full well what pleases me most,” Emily says. Henry grins at her with undisguised affection. “Later though, when we will be free to spend all night.”

“As you wish,” he says, taking the waistcoat from her. “And may I suggest the teal blue gown for you.”

“You may,” Emily says, turning toward her own wardrobe before the urge to kiss him again becomes too much to resist. There is something to be said for delayed gratification after all.

______


End file.
